The German Countryside, Finally

The village where I stayed

This past weekend the owner of the company, and also my boss' boss, invited me to accompany him and his wife at their country home. Making a long weekend out of it, we left Hessen Thursday afternoon and arrived two hours later in the neighboring state of Rhineland-Pfalz. Until this point, the only countryside I'd seen in Germany was what I could squint at from inside on cross-country train rides. On this trip, however, there was no squinting involved. As we arrived I soaked in the natural beauty which surrounded us - I could see for kilometers around us in almost every direction. We settled in and had a (traditional) German dinner of bratwurst, bread, pork and veggies. Potatoes to come later. We spent the somewhat chilly evening relaxing in front of the fireplace.

It's like, a farm

The next day we were up early to have a light breakfast and visit with some local townsfolk. Herr Winkler introduced me to several people in the surrounding villages, who reminded me of the people one meets at Big Bear (although one must be able to understand a wicked dialect of German to speak with these people.) One owned and operated an eyeglasses business, and while we were visiting he showed me how the factory worked. He actually made the glasses from scratch - frames, lenses and all! We also went to a local pub owned by an 80-year-old lady who looked as if she rose from the grave everyday to serve beer. Later that afternoon Herr Winkler said we'd be going fishing. I'm a fan because you basically sit there and do nothing for five hours. Plus it's quiet, and you can reflect on the week as you stare at the beauty which surrounds you. And getting to play with worms and get dirty brings you back to childhood like nothing else. I was told that I better catch something, because our dinner depended on it! That was the way it worked in these parts - people did everything themselves. The nearest grocery store was 30 minutes away. To my surprise, I was able to pull in three decent-sized fish, enough for the three of us for dinner. We tried unsuccessfully to catch more with food and a net. That night after gutting and baking the fish, we ate them with potatoes. (told ya!)

View from the yard

Saturday we all got to sleep in, and once we were all up and ready we drove through the countryside visiting various people, an art sale, and even a pig roast by the lake. At the roast were people fishing, preparing food, and chatting. I had a few beers, relaxed, and took a turn turning the pig. These small, interconnected Dorfs are the German equivalent to Big Bear.
Herr Winkler explained to me that there, one doesn't have to put up a "front" and try to fit in. Everyone is simple, nice, and hardworking. They accept you as you are and are above all good-hearted. As I asked him later why he chose to live in Frankfurt and not elsewhere in Germany, he explained that in Frankfurt, like in Hamburg and Köln, one lives within their means. Thus, you don't see a lot of Bentleys and fabulous displays of wealth, like one sees in München and Düsseldorf. The Lebensqualität, or quality of life, is high in Frankfurt, supported by the vast array of possibilities in parks, museums, and the river. You also have a good infrastructure in the international airport and train station, which are both central hubs in Europe, and a high concentration of banks and finance companies. I'll keep these things in mind as I ponder how life here could be better than that in Berlin.

What is a Frankfurter?

Over the past few weeks, as I've settled into life in the office and the city, I've attempted to realize what it means to be a "Frankfurter." (I think that's what they call the residents here, although it's also possible Frankfurter is another word for hot dog.) I try every day to notice what people who work jobs like mine wear, what they eat, and even what they do in their free time. So far it can be said that the majority of businessmen here wear a suit and tie everyday, drive a black Mercedes (although you do see some riding a bike), and eat at fancy restaurants. I read an article the other day about a man and his friend who ate in a famous restaurant in Munich and between the two of them paid $420. Is this the life I want to lead? Do I want to drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurants?

On Sundays it's rather frustrating because nothing is open. Even the bakeries, where I get the majority of my food, close very early if they're open at all. It forces me to go on one of my expeditions, where the goal is to discover something new and exciting. This past weekend I discovered a Chinese garden not far from my apartment. I wondered to myself what a place like this was doing here, and concluded that perhaps a large Chinese minority exists here. In any case, it's surrounded by a huge flower garden, and is a good place to go to reflect quietly on the previous week. There are festivals here after all, usually at least one event going on every weekend. Many Frankfurters find themselves at these, especially on Saturday evenings and during the day Sunday. They love their music, especially Jazz, and are furiously proud of their ingenuity, as evidenced in the many inventions displayed in museums.

The city of Frankfurt itself doesn't feel like a typical German city. The skyscrapers make it feel more like Manhattan, and because the majority of people out during the week are wearing suits, one feels as if he's walking around a microcosm of an office building. There aren't as many parks as I'd like, but if you have a bike it's pretty easy to find one nearby. There are many more museums than you'd expect from a city of 650,000, and the Main River (pronounced mine) is a great place to spend the day biking or relaxing.

After my realizations about life in a banking city like Frankfurt, I have gathered that there must be something more to life than these things. Happiness, for one, cannot be served on a $200 plate. Nor can it be earned by trading stocks on the market. I tend to rather enjoy my simple, traditional Sunday dinner - because I don't have an operational kitchen I go to this local pizza place owned by an Italian family every Sunday. It's cheap (about $8 for a pizza and salad), delicious, and made by good, honest people. Not that the people serving $200 plates aren't honest, but I have a problem paying that much for a dinner when there are people in this world that don't even have a slice of bread to eat.

In reality, I'm sure I still have a lot to learn about being a Frankfurter. Here, it's always cloudy, so I've found myself consistently carrying around my umbrella without second thought. I've also become accustomed to not getting carded when I buy beer, a custom practiced here because of the "loose" culture when it comes to alcohol. And when I'm hungry at a fair or other event, I usually look for the bratwurst stands. Apple wine is pretty good, too.

Oh, and according to American Heritage Dictionary:
frankfurter (n) - A smoked sausage of beef, or beef and pork, made in long reddish links